


Archery

by edy



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Established Relationship, M/M, Private School, Violent Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-04
Updated: 2011-10-04
Packaged: 2017-11-13 02:38:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/498523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edy/pseuds/edy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gerard only wants to think about killing his classmates.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Archery

**Author's Note:**

> request: archery
> 
> -
> 
> i know nothing about archery, except what i've learned from video games.

Gerard Way's a bit violent. That's why he likes playing croquet. He imagines all those little balls are his classmates, and the wickets are rings of fire that smother them when they go through them.

So, because he's a bit violent, and he hates his classmates, Gerard doesn't pass up the chance to take the new archery class.

He knows he won't be that good at it, but it'll be fun to think about shooting sharp arrows into torsos.

He doesn't quite like the idea of being the only one to sign up, though, so that's a problem.

After the final bell rings, he walks from biology and heads over to his friend's locker, knowing he'll be stuck in there. He always is.

Gerard has to kick at the white piece of shit before it opens, and it reveals his short friend sitting at the bottom of it, his phone in his lap as he taps away. Gerard hears him munching, and he suspects it's the bag of chips he hadn't eaten at lunch.

Gerard lightly knocks on the locker door. His friend doesn't raise his head. "Frank, school's over."

Frank Iero stuffs some more chips in his mouth, chews. "Fuck off. I'm playing _Tetris_."

Gerard lightly giggles. "Get out. We're going to sign up for the new class."

Frank exhales loudly. "Dude." He shakes his head and pushes the, now empty, bag of potato chips out his locker. "I'm not doing that." He stretches his legs, then, letting his feet rest on the tile floor of the school hallways.

Gerard glances around before grabbing Frank's ankles and roughly pulling him out. "You're gonna come with me, you little shit."

*

It's windy whenever Gerard and Frank walk out of the school around two o'clock the next day. They have successfully signed up for the new class, and it seems as if they are the only ones there. Well, except for the other three students. Gerard knows them as the jocks, the _popular_ people, the ones he'd like to shove into a toilet and drown. Whatever.

Frank nudges him with an elbow. "I don't like it here."

Gerard shrugs. "Let's just try and have some fun." He doesn't like it here either, but one of them has to be strong.

The students head to the field where the gym teacher had placed a row of ten targets with a set of arrows and a bow lying on the soft ground. Gerard gently starts bouncing on his feet. He's anxious to start. He wants to start shooting up his classmates—wait, _shooting arrows_. He nervously bites on his lip, and Frank reaches out to touch his side, slowly moving his hand up and down. "Calm down, man."

Gerard growls a bit, but Frank doesn't pull away his hand. He's a good friend. He's cool.

At last, after thirty minutes of a lecture over proper techniques and safety regulations, the teacher lets them practice for the remainder of the time—twenty minutes. It isn't long, but it's something. Gerard eagerly skips over to a set of bow and arrows and grabs it, fixing it and letting the arrow soar through the air with ease.

He grins to himself and looks over at his other classmates. None of them are as lucky as he at this.

Two girls are standing off to the side, trying to put in an arrow, but they both end up snapping their fingers with the string.

A male with incredible muscles and a six pack is by the girls, looking down at his bow, wondering how it works. It's not like they had a lecture over what to do or anything.

Finally, Frank is on the ground beside Gerard, his foot caught in the bow. He tries to get himself free by stabbing the piece of wood with an arrow.

Gerard laughs. He is superior.

He turns back to his target and picks up another arrow. He pauses for a moment, staring at it, then turning his gaze onto the target in front of him. Eyes narrowed, he glares at the bullseye.

He imagines one of the popular crowd standing in front of it. He's on the hockey team, and he's dressed in his jersey. He has a hockey stick in one hand, and he's shaking it at Gerard, cackling.

Gerard glares some more, and he pulls back an arm.

 _Come on, you twisted fuck. Shoot me. I bet you can't_ , the hockey player taunts, and he starts to do a little dance, but Gerard successfully silences him by flinging the arrow right into his forehead.

Gerard chuckles to himself and quickly draws another arrow, continuing to shoot at the imaginary jock, killing him or, rather, torturing him.

Gerard starts getting into it, losing track of time. The rest of the class have already gone inside. He doesn't care.

He also doesn't care enough to pay attention to his short friend walking in front of him to wave. Gerard can hear a faint "God, you're going _crazy_! Stop this, dude," but he's not for certain. He could be hearing things.

He flicks the bow's string, and the arrow slices through the air—

And safely lands in Frank's bicep.

"Fuck!"

Gerard snaps out of the morbid trance he's in, automatically spotting Frank sprawled out on the chilly, frosted grass. Gerard's eyes widen. He tosses aside the bow and drops to his knees, crawling over to Frank, reaching forward with shaky hands to touch his paling face. "You okay?" he asks, despite already knowing Frank cannot possible be okay. It had seemed natural, though, asking if he was okay.

Frank glares. "I have a fucking arrow stuck in my arm."

Gerard bites his lip. "I can get that out!" He slips off his school jacket first, spreads it out beside him, and wraps his long fingers around the shaft of the arrow. He swiftly pulls it out and grabs at his jacket to press against the wound. He chews on his chapped lip some more as he throws the bloody arrow someplace he can't see. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know. I was just thinking of something else, and the wind was blowing, and I totally didn't mean to hit you." His eyes are still wide, and he tries to pull off his best pout. "You're not mad, right?"

Frank sighs. It's soft. "I guess I'm okay." He raises into a sitting position, applies more pressure to his arm. "At least the cut's not deep." He shrugs a bit and lowers his head. "I'm ruining your jacket."

Gerard shrugs, too. He rubs his arms because he only then realizes how cold it is out here. The uniformly white button-down isn't doing him any justice. He ties his scarf tighter around his neck. "Let's go inside. I bet school's already over."

Frank nods. "The teacher told me to get you when you were done. I told him you wouldn't ever get done, but he wouldn't listen—the fat ass." Frank rolls his eyes, and Gerard laughs a bit, covering his mouth with a hand. He has some of Frank's blood on his fingertips. Frank stares. "What?"

Gerard stands, helping Frank. "You're funny."

Frank shoves him. "Fuck off." He begins to walk toward the school building, and Gerard has to run to catch up.

He slings an arm around Frank's shoulders and draws him in close. Gerard gives Frank a quick peck on the cheek. "You should be thankful I actually took the fucking arrow out. I was thinking about leaving it in there." He looks ahead, a smirk on his face.

"You better not have."

"Whatever. I like croquet better."

"I'm scared you're going to stab me with a wicket or something now. Whack me with a mallet."

Gerard looks at Frank for a second before dipping his head down and kissing the corner of his mouth. "You're _weird_ ," he mumbles against his flesh.


End file.
